Dinner and Disease
Nevada A land of rugged, snow-capped peaks, dry desert valleys, and huge, sparsely populated expanses, Nevada, the Silver State, still has the aura of the Old West. Blessed with widespread mineral resources, it is the nation's leading producer of gold, silver, and mercury, but its main claim to fame comes from, of course, gambling. That, entertainment, and skiing make it a popular destination for tourists not only from the bordering states but from around the world. Las Vegas, Reno, and Lake Tahoe are the best known tourist traps. Less well known features are the large, discreet military facilities and testing grounds in the least-populated areas of the state. Contents: Marissa Faireborn Capture Point Instructions Obvious exits: Secure Highway <51> leads to Area 51. North leads to Northwestern States. Southeast leads to Arizona. West leads to California. Out leads to Southwestern States. Las Vegas Snow-capped peaks encircle South Tahoe. The dark pine trees color the landscape up the mountain ridges and hills, along valleys and across the landscape. Roads twist and wind their way through the pictursque view, nice homes tucked away off the beaten path, most having that 'cabin', rustic feel to them. One such cabin is the home of Marissa Faireborn when she's not been a General or when she's not on active duty or just in some down time. It looks to be about a three bedroom, or more like two bedroom and an office cabin, with a large spreading porch off the back that overlooks a small lake that only one or two other cabins share some distance off. Trees grow up close to it, obscuring it from casual overhead view. It has a gravel driveway and parking area with a small barn set next to it where most likely she parks her car when not in use...or where a Bot stays to keep the elements off them when visiting or protecting. There's a corral off the back of the barn suggesting there might be horses or the ability to have horses there whenever she's around. Right now though, the parking pad has a random autobot tucked up cozily in a spot to keep an eye on the cabin and Marissa while she checks things over and gets clothes, retrieving a few things of necessity and making sure everything is still 'in working order' after what had happened four months ago. When Apocryphacius visited Autobot City, he was told that he could request a meeting with General Faireborn if he liked. He did not request a meeting then, as he had things he needed to be doing, and also, he had heard Faireborn was ill. Even if she was not, she is important, he is not. Her time is worth more than his. That said, Apocryphacius's mind must have changed with a shift of his faces, because he has indeed requested a meeting. Getting to this semi-remote location without using EDC property takes some doing, especially as he does not easily fit into standard-sized human vehicles. However, Apocryphacius manages it, and he knocks on the door with one tentacle. Marissa Faireborn had been expecting her guest and had done her research on what they liked to eat and drink. Don't let it be said that she was a poor hostess. She heard the knock on the door and opened it, smiled and stepped aside. "Come in Apocryphacius. It's nice of you to join me in my humble abode." Apocryphacius does not look entirely well himself, but he isn't sick with anything. He just has neither been resting well nor eating well. Something is keeping him up at night and preventing him from eating much, but it is not anything he can discuss with, well, anyone. Since Marissa did her research, she will have discovered that he eats seafood and energon, more or less. Neither of those things entirely supplies all of his nutritional requirements, but they're close enough that he can get away with those two and some supplement pills - when he feels like eating. Apocryphacius salutes and says nervously, "Really, sir, it is too kind of you. Your time is valuable, after all." Marissa Faireborn snorts a little and salutes back then closes the door behind him. "Right now, time is all I have to be honest. Come in and sit down. I remember Amber saying you didn't look like you were eating or sleeping well. So I made sure to find out what you ate and liked, and had some supplied here." She shows the way into the smallish dining room off the kitchen where the table is set with just those things in quantity, being kept warm or cold as the need arises, along with food for herself. "Make yourself comfortable. I always find discussions go better over a good meal." Apocryphacius comes in as directed. Something seems to have him a bit distracted; his faces rock back and forth a bit, as if he is on the verge of shifting his faces around, but they never quite do shift. He looks at the spread of food and says softly, "Oh my, sir. You really have done your research." That is something he can admire. He settles himself where there is free space. Sitting is not really something his bodyshape allows. "Miss MacKenzie speak of me? That is..." Actually, he has no idea how he feels about that. It is a puzzle. Marissa Faireborn hadn't left a chair for him to sit in, knowing that it would not have fit him, but instead left several plump fat cushions instead. She sat in a chair across the table and shrugs, "Amber, I find, is a very caring person. So is Andi. They were both concerned about the way you looked the other day and when this meeting was arranged, Amber mentioned that it looked as though you hadn't been eating or sleeping well. So I thought that I could at least solve part of the dilemma." She motioned to the food. "And just because we're human, and perhaps maybe not see eye to eye on everything or who we agree with, or side with, it doesn't mean that we can't have compassion for those we share space on this earth for." There is most of that almost-turning going on with Apocryphacius's faces. They click a few notches to the right and then snap back to the left. A few of his tentacles drape over the cushions instead of pooling on the floor. He says quietly, "Captain Lassiter, as well? I, ah... I would expect that all of you would have better things to do with your time, to be honest. Should you not eat first, sir?" She may be on indefinite medical leave, and the actual situation may be murky to him, but order is a major thing for him. Certain forms are to be obeyed. Marissa Faireborn blinks, then nods, "Ah, yes. Excuse my lack of ettiquette." She picks up the lid to a bowl on the table and dishes out some mashed potatoes and then lifts the lid on a plate and takes up a grilled chicken breast. Some cooked vegetables follow and some tea. Then she takes a bite and savors the flavor. "We humans are amazing beings really. You'll find that once you make a friend or at least a good aquaintence, we tend to look out for them, and look out for each other. Its somewhat of a pack mentality, a social networking of sorts. Most of us are good natured and we don't like to see someone suffer, even those we disfavor or dislike. But its even more accute for those we do like or are at least familiar with and care about." Apocryphacius takes up a glass of energon and sips at it cautiously. Is it going to stay down, given how nervous he is? These small sips seems to be okay for now. Genturing with a tentacle, he explains, "Sir, I came to life on Earth. I was 'raised' by humans, to put it crudely. I am a citizen of a UN Nation that will remain unnamed and pay my taxes. I am better aware of how humans operate than I am of how Quintessons operate. However, given that most of the aliens on Earth are rather more alien in understanding if not phenotype, your explainations about the nature of humanity were reasonable." Marissa Faireborn mmms softly, "Oh really? I didn't know you were 'raised' by humans. How fascinating." She takes another bite of her food. She has had to learn to eat slowly, carefully since her system went without for so long. "So tell me, what can I do for you?" She figured she might as well open things up with his reason for wanting a meeting, instead of lingering on why people seemed to be worried about him. For some reason it baffled him and she didn't want to stress him further, for stress he obviously was. The General is definitely right about Apocryphacius being stressed! He keeps to those small sips of energon; they seem to be working for now. Apocrypphacius confirms, "Yes, sir. A Quintesson ship crash-landed on a remote Pacific island in, oh, must have been the 40s or so, because human radar technology was not advanced enough to notice it. The crash killed all the adults, but it was enough to snap me to life. The people of the island were quite kind. It was not until 2027 that I was sighted by the rest of the world. The EDC took me in, for which I am grateful. In any case, sir, should it not be what you can do for me but what I can do for you, to paraphrase?" Marissa Faireborn takes another bite of food and listens intently and it shows by the surprise on her face, "That's right! I remember reading that file come across my desk but I didn't think much of it because others were dealing with it. There was so much going on at the time. Now that I have the 'leisure' to go back over some things, I'm finding I've missed quite a bit. Wow, and to have been brought up on an island. Living the life most of us would give just about anything to have at one point or another in our lives," she says with a quiet smile. She takes another bite and lets the silence punctuate the change in topics. "I see. Then may I ask what it is that you can do for me?" Marissa Faireborn nods as she continues to eat slowly, adding a few more vegetables to her plate and a bit more tea to her cup. "I see. Well as for a conversationalist, you're doing just fine so far." She pauses again to chew a mouthful of food, then asks. "May I inquire as to why you seem so stressed? Something has obviously put you off your food and perhaps sleep? I hope they aren't overworking you on a project." "They," Apocryphacius states and then asks, "May I engage in a chuckle, sir? 'They' are not overworking me. I am busy but no moreso than anyone else and no unreasonably so. I am told that you have been ill and that the Autobots kidnapped you, sir. I do hope you are not suffering Stockholm Syndrome." His optics widen with concern. Marissa Faireborn chuckles softly, "You may engage in chuckles, or anything else you feel you wish to do. This is nothing extremely formal here, so please, by all means." She takes a sip of her tea, "Yes, I'd heard that rumor too. Actually, to set the record straight, I was infected with Strauchlor's Reaving, an engineered virus. I don't know how I got it, all I know is that I left here by bicycle hours after the Cons attacked and headed to the EDC. I was on administrative leave still but figured I could be of some help and began to help get things organized. This was about two days after all hell broke loose. I had only been to the EDC for about half a day when I began to feel ill, almost violently so, and much beyond that, I don't remember much. My first lucid moment, I found myself in a hospital room, obviously underground since there were no windows with a staff of doctors tending me and guards at my door, with Mr. Cross coming to visit. Within what seemed like hours of his visiting, I was violently ill again. This pattern continued for some time and finally I was told I had been sick for three months, but with what, no one would tell me, not even Cross. I asked but all I got was the run around, saying I just needed to focus on getting better. Finally I seemed to be on the mend even after his visit, so I asked for a guest to come and see me. I asked for Amber. He didn't seem happy but I was fed up with no answers, and got the feeling I was being ...held since i wasn't told where I was, or details of my stay. Amber was brought but she'd been blindfolded and drove around for some time till they got her there. Between the time of my request and her arrival I had gotten one of the doctors to tell me where I was and I got that message smuggled out to Amber, and I silently pleaded with her that I wanted to get out. I had asked Cross to let me out, or take me to the EDC or something, but he refused, saying it was for my safety." She took a sip of tea and looked at the Quintison. "Amber managed to get a few Autobots to help her and the 'sprung' me from where I was and got me back to Autobot City for a 'second opinion'. But I slowly began to digress in health and Cross was nice enough to send over the drugs they'd been using to 'keep me alive' but said I was contagious and had an alien virus and all of this stuff. Well I had already told them to put me in quarentine from the moment I'd arrived at Autobot City so there were precautions in place. Then he started accusing them of kidnapping me even though I had been the one to ask for sanctuary. Finally we found an alien doctor who could possibly cure me. Come to find out, he was the one who had created the virus that had made me sick and made big bucks selling the vaccine. He had killed millions, maybe billions of others before me in other systems and planets. We managed to get the vaccine from him but the question remains, how did I get it? It's said to be spread through the water system and so forth. But the only water I drank was from my cups and water bottles at the EDC, things that hadn't come from my own well here. So I must have gotten it at the EDC when I went back to work." Apocryphacius engages in a nervous chuckle, though it is rather ill-timed. He listens along intently, pushing a piece of tuna around the plate listlessly. The Quintesson finds himself lacking in appetite after her tale, but he reminds himself that she went to all this /trouble/ for him, and he forces the bit of tuna down. Apocryphacius says uncertainly, "General Cross mentioned a few days ago being uncertain if you were still alive, sir, but he seemed to be genuinely happy to hear that you persist. My first instinct would be to wonder if perhaps the Decepticons were involved in your infection. Their Cassetticons are quite adept at stealth." Marissa Faireborn doesn't want to tell this EDCer anything that might be taken back to Cross that he doesn't already know or suspect. She shrugs a little, "We may never know honestly. But, at least I am whole again, and now I just need to gain back the weight I lost, and the muscle, tone up and get back in shape so I can hopefully resume my duties at the EDC soon enough." She didn't try to give the feeling she was blaming Cross for anything but more that things had been....confusing, but that she was 1) alive, and 2) had not been kidnapped. She looked across the table at him, "Apocryphacius, I want you to know that I appreciate you coming to talk to me. If I have need of your skills and assistance, I will call you at once. But seeing as I am still on a leave of absence, anything I ask of you right now would have to be 'off the record' because it wouldn't be official EDC sanctioned. But let us hope I can get myself back in shape and off administrative leave soon, so that it can be official. But...in the meantime, if you ever need someone to talk to, someone who's been around and knows how things work within and without the EDC, but also just...well, just someone to talk to as a friend, my door is always open and whatever is said to me will stay confidential. But you should truly get some rest, eat better, or stop doing whatever is causing you to have so many sleepless nights." The General is being /very/ smart about things. Apocryphacius does offer, "I may be of some small assistance to First Aid with regards to your medical issues, sir." As near as he can tell, Cross does not want her dead, so that should be safe to offer, right? Apocryphacius is more of a battlefield triage sort than a pathologist, but sometimes a fresh perspective can help. He cringes when she tells him to get more rest, eat better, or... stop what he is doing that is causing that. No, Apocryphacius does not think he can do that. Not right now. He eats some more of the tuna, which is really quite excellent, and he resolves to at least eat better. One out of three isn't bad, is it? "I do not have anything to discuss, but your offer is very kind, sir." Marissa Faireborn nods and smiles. "That's all right, just know that the offer stands as it is, any time. Now...tell me more about this island you grew up on...." And she lets the conversation go back to something very neutral until finally the meal is done and it is time to depart. But she gets her Autobot friend, with a little persuasion, to help get Apocryphacius down to an area where she has arranged for better transportation to get him back to wherever he needs to go.